Martin Douglas was standing in front of a mirror in his hotel bathroom, giving his face a retouch with a Gillette shaving stick. As he worked on his somewhat overgrown beard, his Samsung galaxy phone rang; he raced to pick it up. “Hello!” said Martin as he waited for a response from the other end of the phone; but there was an awkward momentary silence. “Hello! Who is this?” quizzed Martin with a tad of authority. Then a cold husky voice queried, “Are you Martin Douglas of Times Newspaper?” “Yes I am. But who are you?” “I have a scoop for you about a plan by some world leaders to reduce the population of Africa by 25% in the first phase of the plan and 15% in its second phase. I want a meeting with you to reveal what I know.” “Where are you now? And please do you have a name and how did you get my number?” “You can call me Throne. Someone in Michigan gave me your number. I will call you back in twenty five minutes’ time if I am convinced you are not being watched. Thank you.” The phone went dead with a beeping sound. Impatiently Martin paced about in his hotel room as he waited for Throne to call back.

One year earlier a lady reporter; Camila Lorenzo, from Buenos Aires Argentina had called him about a plan to weaponize Ebola virus in West Africa by a secret group she called THE ELITE. Two days after the phone call Camila was found dead at the location Martin had agreed to meet with her to hear what she knew. There was a bullet to her head and the contents of her purse were scattered all over the ground and her body. The police never investigated her murder; they described Camila’s death as unfortunate in a purse-snatching incident which was common in the city. When Martin demanded the police investigate Camila’s death, the police threw at him an overwhelming crime report in the city and closed the case. At the time Criminal activity was concentrated in urban areas in Argentina, especially Greater Buenos Aires, Cordoba, Rosario, and Mendoza. The wealthier parts of metro Buenos Aires experienced high rates of property crime, with high income neighborhoods often registering twice as many complaints as some of the poorer parts of town. Short-term visitors to urban areas were subject to street crime. Visitors reported robberies while in tourist areas, at banks and change houses, and on the subway and other public transportation. Thieves specifically targeted expensive looking jewelry, watches, cell phones, cameras, and backpacks. They regularly nabbed unattended purses, backpacks, laptops, and luggage and will often distract visitors to steal valuables. This included robbing purses and bags from occupied tables at restaurants. In spite of the crime report, Martin felt there was more to Camila’s death, so when Ebola virus broke out in West Africa and killed thousands of people, Martin began to investigate Camilla’s claims.

THRONE’S SECOND CALL

It took longer than twenty-five minutes for Throne to call back. Precisely one hour fourteen minutes after his first call, he called again, “Hello Mr. Martin Douglas. I think you are not being followed or bugged. I hope I am right. If I am wrong, then consider the two of us dead. I know about Camila Lorenzo and why she was killed. Meet me at Praia Jale Park in thirty minutes.” The phone went dead again like the first time. Martin grabbed his backpack containing a Samsung digital tape recorder, his international passport, a Canon high definition camera, his Visa credit card, a Sony laptop, a hand gun for protection and a bottle of diet Coke and dashed out of his hotel room. Outside the hotel he flagged down a cab and shouted at the driver to take him to Praia Jale Park. The drive to Praia Jale Park would have taken him twenty-seven minutes, but he got the cab driver to make in eighteen minutes. Martin didn’t want another case like that of Camila Lorenzo.

THRONE AND MARTIN DOUGLAS AT PRAIA JALE PARK

When he entered the park he picked his spot, and making use of his Canon high definition camera, he scanned the park for any hidden shooters. Satisfied that there was none he waited for Throne to call him. While he was waiting, Throne was also scouring the park for signs of shooters. Throne spotted Martin and zoomed in on him for anyone who might have come with him. After some minutes of waiting to make sure he was safe, Throne crept out of his position and hurried down to meet Martin. Behind Throne a shooter who cut the look of an African-American moved into a vantage shooting position and strained his long range rifle on Throne. Unknown to Throne his taxi driver had been used to drop off a bug on him. For days the taxi driver had been watching and taking pictures of him without his suspecting a thing. When he needed a taxi to go meet with Martin Douglas, he made himself available. On the way to the park, the taxi driver made a brief stop to check a false problem with his car and asked Throne to help him out. When Throne got off the taxi and came close enough, the taxi driver pinned a bug on his shirt and quickly closed his car bonnet, claiming the problem was nothing.

With the sniper’s finger resting on the trigger of his riffle, he listened in on the conversation going on between Martin and Throne, “Tell me the truth, do you work for the American government or the United Nations?” Throne quizzed. Throne shifted closer to Martin and then Martin felt the cold feel of a gun resting on his tommy. “I am wondering why Camila died after she set up a meeting with you. Tell me what happened there or you are dead”, Throne continued as he demanded more answers from Martin. “I don’t work for the American government or for the United Nations. I did not set Camila up. But I am sure some highly placed people killed her for what she knew. A year before the Ebola virus outbreak in West Africa she knew about it. She was murdered, that I am sure of, but I know nothing about it.” “Did you tell anyone about this meeting?” “No! No! I didn’t.” “I still do not trust you Martin. But take this…”

With his left hand, Throne slipped a flash drive into Martin’s hand while still resting his gun on him with his right hand. “…you will find out everything you need to know about the Ebola virus outbreak in West Africa and an impending plan to render 40% of men in Africa impotent by lacing commonly used drugs in Africa with sterilizing agents. That is not all; they are also targeting the majority of the population in Asia and South America…” “Hold on Throne, who are these people you refer to as ‘they’?” “They are called The Elite. They have a globalist agenda. I have heard of a plan which would create global civil unrests, political upheavals, economic crisis and pandemics worse than the HIV AIDS scourge. The plan is called Project Haggai. It has begun already. Look at Greece, their economic problem is only a template which would be replicated in many nations. Major economies of the world will collapse. Many companies will fold and some others will go into administration. Stocks will fall. At the height of these crises, The Elite would offer their solutions to the world and the world will happily accept them. Their solutions will destroy families, men, women and children in their numbers. In the year 2016 something very bad will happen. The stage has already been set for it”. “What will happen in 2016?”

THE ESCAPE

Martin was hoping to squeeze out more from Throne when a bullet whizzed through Throne’s head, leaving a gaping hole in it. Martin threw himself to the ground and rolled behind a concrete seat for a cover. He was shocked as he beheld Throne’s body lying lifeless on the ground and blood spurting from the hole in his head. Martin reached toward Throne’s body and took his Nike pouch. He believed he might find some useful information in it. A few more bullets hit the concrete seat and pinned him in his position. Martin didn’t want the shooter to cut him off from escaping, so he hurriedly crawled away into a thick cluster of flowers and made a dash out of the park, running through a forest of flowers in the hope they would block the view of the shooter. However the shooter kept shooting at him. He had to dive to the ground and crawled much of the way before he got to his feet and ran out of the park. Having done investigative journalism for years, he knew when one is hunted; going back to one’s hotel room is suicide. With much of what he needed in his backpack, he disappeared into the night. Three hours after his escape, his phone rang and his wife’s voice came through the phone crying, “Martin! They are hurting us! Give them whatever they want. They have shot Marilyn my sister and they want to take me and the children away! Please…”

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